I Need a Hero
by playing-soldiers
Summary: In which a hero roams around New York City, fighting crime and falling in love. Human names used. Loosely inspired by Spider-Man, Batman, Superman, and Kick-Ass.
1. I Need a Hero

Creeping through the back alleys of New York City, blue eyes perused every shadow for injustice. He did this nightly, under the protective disguise of an all-new costumed vigilante. After all, it was New York City, famous for the Spider-Man movies and being the muse of inspiration for Gotham City in Batman. The only way to fight crime and get away with it in this city was if you pretended to be a superhero. And that's exactly what he was doing.

Coming into the alley our hero patrolled was a snowy haired teenager, listening to music with his hood pulled up. He was totally oblivious to the three guys trailing after him. Sinking into the shadows, our hero waited patiently, watching and waiting for the trio to strike.

One of the three boys appeared to be underage and publicly intoxicated, and they all looked familiar…our hero was the picture of silence. He thought to himself that he wouldn't be noticed if he tried or if he didn't, either way. That's just how it was for him.

"Yo! Snow White! Where's your, like, Prince Charming?" one of the teens shouted, his voice slurring as he threw an arm around his friend to steady himself, "I bet you're, like, goin' to visit him….tall, dark, and, like,_ Indian_."

The teenager in question raised his head, revealing two scarlet eyes our hero knew well enough, and looked behind him. The albino stopped mere inches from the end of the alley, where it opened to a dark street with even darker houses lining it; he slowly took his ear phones out and smiled devilishly.

"Yeah? You aren't too far from your butt buddy, either, Feliks. How _are_ you doing Toris, by the way?" The brunette of the trio grew red and the shorter blond flew at the hooded boy. The sound of a fist making contact with skin was clear, echoing through the alley, causing our masked hero to tense. He wouldn't make himself known until there was a more serious danger…like the tall boy with violet eyes.

"You, like, need to learn how to speak to others. Especially people that are, like, so much higher up on the social ladder than you are." Gilbert rubbed his cheek slowly but made no move to defend himself, "Ivan, I'm like, done with him. You can do, like, whatever you want with him. Come on Toris, I'm like, totally sloshed and it's a school night. Can you drive me home because, like, you aren't drunk because you're, like, no fun at all?" Toris sighed nervously but he must have said yes, because the sound of retreating footsteps was evident.

And so was the sound of a silent struggle. Its silence broke the next minute, the sound of metal breaking bone filling our hero's ears. Just the _sound _of it made him cringe into the glacially cold brick wall he was hiding against.

The victim grunted in pain and coughed wetly as the continuous sound of metal crushing bone and the laughter of Ivan Braginski filled the alley like a song from hell.

_Now._

Emerging from the shadows, our hero walked out silently. His clothes didn't utter a whisper and his boots dared not give away that there wasn't two people in the alley anymore, but three. From head to toe, our hero wore black leather trimmed with red and our hero's masked eyes fixed themselves stubbornly on the sight before him:

Gilbert Beilschmidt lies on the ground, clutching his rib cage as Ivan Braginski rained steel and mirth onto the unusually defenseless German. This was an uncommon sight. Fire-filled Gilbert Beilschmidt _always _fought against everything; his brother, his teachers, the rules, authority, etc.

Not tonight, however.

Jumping into the air and kicking off of the brick wall, our leather-clad hero tackled the violet-eyed Russian to the dirty ground, pausing his assault. Knocking the steel pipe away from Ivan's merciless hands, our hero began punching Ivan in the face to keep his attention on _him_; he ignored the aggressive blows he was being dealt.

Rolling onto our hero in a surprisingly quick manner, Ivan stared down into confident, blue eyes and found he was curious. He'd have to unmask this "hero" and then throttle him for interrupting his business. Or throttle him now and ask questions later. Wrapping his hands around his captive's pale throat, he began to squeeze, not taking into account that there was a wall in front of him and that our costumed vigilantes legs were free to do whatever they pleased.

And whatever they pleased they did.

With hardly any effort, athletically seasoned legs launched Ivan Braginski forward. Making a resounding _whack, _Ivan Braginski's head made contact with the red bricks and the dead weight of his body fell sideways. Our now free hero stood up and surveyed the damage.

His neck would be bruised and so would his ribs, but that was all in a night's work.

What was important was that he protected an innocent. It was pretty _sweet._

Breathing out, our hero's hot breath made a plume of white smoke form in the wintry New York air. Gazing at the attacker, blue eyes searched for the rise and fall of Ivan's chest, before closing in relief when he saw it go up and down slowly. He trained his gaze next on Gilbert, finding his lips spotted with blood and tinged blue from the cold.

Gloved hands found Gilbert's arms and pulled gently so that he was sitting up, his head lolling sideways and his eyes trying to focus on his savior before him. Strong leather encased arms picked the German up bridal style and Gilbert could feel himself moving from the alley.

He sighed in relief, shaking from the cold and from fear. He had been expecting this for weeks.

But, before Gilbert lost total consciousness due to the trauma inflicted upon him, he saw blue eyes, blond hair, and a stray piece of hair that stuck out and curled defiantly. Gilbert knew two kids that fit the bill of that description easily, but only one that would have a reason to beat Ivan Braginski into the ground for his wrong-doing.

Gilbert wheezed out a name questioningly, "_Alfred?"_

* * *

_Alright! Hi, guys! This is the first time I've ever tried doing an action story like this, thoughts? :3_

_I really hope you enjoy this!_

_Feliks - Poland_

_Toris - Lithuania_

_Gilbert - Prussia_

_Ivan - Russia_

_Hero - time will tell~_


	2. Distant Vision

There was no way that Alfred F. Jones could stop thinking about this new superhero. It was just so…unusual. A superhero in New York City? Psh! Like that was true!

But, that superhero was the talk of the school. _Someone_ had put Ivan Braginski in the hospital with a concussion and _someone_ had taken Gilbert Beilschmidt to the hospital after he was attacked in an alley…by Ivan Braginski.

But, how believable was this superhero theory? And who would believe it?

Strutting down the hallway, Alfred walked towards the cafeteria. It was hamburger day and he sure as hell could go for one right now. He had to talk to Kiku about this…maybe they could turn it into a comic book.

XXX

Kiku Honda sat in the middle of the lunch room at a table full of athletes. At the end of the table where Kiku sat was the quiet hockey player Matthew Williams. He never engaged in any of the athlete-talk that went on around them. Kiku himself was on the tennis team, but who was he kidding? He was a nerd at heart that preferred books over balls. He could sympathize with Matthew. Talking about sports was meaningless.

When he saw his best friend approach, Kiku blinked in acknowledgement and gave a soft hello. No sooner had Alfred sat down, he began to speak, "Yo! Kiku! Did you hear about that superhero guy that kicked Ivan's ass?" Alfred half asked, half shouted at Kiku.

Kiku knew that Alfred must be _ecstatic _about this. Ivan was the quarterback, and with him being newly-concussed, Alfred would be quarterback in his place.

"Yes. I heard that he is as quiet as a shadow and as invisible as one, some say he has super powers. He has been secretly 'fighting crime' for little over a month."

"This is crazy! Who do you think would be out of their right mind to do this?" Kiku watched Alfred's eyes and saw something unsettling in them. A nervousness, almost.

It was gone the next minute. His normal confidence flooded back into them again and the arrogant edge returned to his voice, "Like, c'mon, this is New York City. He'll get himself killed by the mobsters or gangs if he crosses their path. What an idiot."

Kiku Honda couldn't help but feel that that was _exactly_ something that the self-proclaimed hero Alfred F. Jones would do.

XXX

For as long as Gilbert Beilschmidt could remember, he had always been gay.

In fact, his ex-boyfriend was Ivan Braginski, and it had been a horribly abusive relationship.

Of course, Gilbert had dumped him due to his mistreatment and ever since then Ivan and Gil had bitter feelings towards one another.

Gilbert Beilschmidt had been left with a warning that night; a few broken ribs, a punctured lung, and several bruises.

The doctors said he would be in pain for the next few days and that the real danger had passed by him. They said that whoever brought him to the hospital had done it just in time. He could've drowned in his own blood if they had waited any longer.

This brush of death had little effect on Gil, though. He was more concerned/obsessed with the thought of the hero that saved him, the pained blue eyes with a splash of relief in them. The way the hero carried him as if he were as light as air…

Who was he?

Gilbert thought that it was Alfred F. Jones, he even _asked. _ But the hero stayed silent. When they reached the hospital, Gil woke up for a very brief moment to hear the name "_Distant Vision_" roll off the next-to-invisible hero's lips before he slid into the shadows and left Gilbert Beilschmidt to choke on the blood filling his lungs.

Not too long after his savior left, nurses rushed out in a panic, pulling him up and dragging him into the hospital.

The rest was too foggy to remember.

He did, however, remember his brother and his brother's boyfriend rushing into the hospital room in a panic, Ludwig trying to remain calm while Feliciano sobbed.

It was a few days after the alley incident that Gilbert was discharged from the hospital. Ludwig was on a tirade about the dangers the city presented and how he should be more careful and for a day, Gilbert felt like the younger brother.

A day later, he went into school sporting yellowing bruises and a keen interest in the gossip about Distant Vision and his latest acts of kindness.

Distant Vision, according to the grapevine, was relatively tall, blonde, and a total hunk. He could 'turn invisible', he had super strength, and just the night before he had saved a girl from being raped in Queens.

All the girls were in love with him already, picturing Captain America or Thor wearing a cape and rescuing them from the dangerous New York City.

But Gilbert fell in love with the blue eyes that had gazed worriedly into his.

XXX

Matthew Williams slammed hockey pucks into the net with unrelenting force, one after another. It was a habitual stress reliever.

He had so much on his plate.

The blonde had to pass all of his classes, complete all his projects and homework, all while trying to cope over the recent murder of his parents. Then there were rumors flying around about that new superhero, Distant Vision. Matthew's head was spinning from the extremity of it all.

Gazing at the clock for the first time in a few hours, Matthew realized just how much time had passed him by as he tried staving off his negative thoughts and memories.

It was late at night, and Francis was expecting him home soon.

Straightening himself, Matthew glided across the ice gracefully and left the rink, waving good bye to the janitors and Zamboni driver before heading to the shower.

The water was hot and the locker room steamy, but all Matthew could think about was the water pounding on his back and the mobster that murdered his mother and father right before his eyes.

The news hadn't played it up to be as bad as it was, and everyone forgot about it as soon as it happened.

But Matthew knew that it was nothing to take lightly, as the NYPD had. They passed it off as your average, run of the mill break-in and murder, but in reality; there was nothing average about death.

What was worse? The Vargas twins went to school with Matthew and it was _their grandfather _that had done the job. Matthew saw Romano Vargas much more than he liked to, and Feliciano would chatter to him happily about paint mixtures and new pencils in art club.

They had no idea what their grandfather had done.

As Francis and his parents picked Matthew up to go live with them that horrible day, the Canadian made a silent promise to himself.

It had been a month since it happened. The rooms of Matthew's new room were bare, boxes lined the walls, and the only thing that had really been unpacked was Matthew's stuffed polar bear, Kumajirou. The blonde had thought that his old friend would keep the nightmares away. But they persisted. They scared him into not sleeping at all, out of fear that he'd have to relive the worst memory of his life over and over again. And each night, he'd whisper his promise like a mantra.

When the water turned cold, Matthew knew it was time to go home.

He would not sleep that night. He probably wouldn't sleep again for a long time. He still felt the gaping hole in his chest that his parents murder left, and he had very little to fill it. All that remained of his parents was stale memories, their screams, and a stuffed polar bear.

Slamming his locker, Matthew slung his gym bag over his shoulder and headed out of the ice arena. He had a sleepless night ahead of him.

On his way home, he saw Francis' best friend, Gilbert Beilschmidt a few yards ahead of him, heading the same way.

XXX

Francis Bonnefoy gazed at the clock nervously. And Francis was never nervous, not since his aunt and uncle were murdered and Matthew had come to live with him.

It was almost 9:00 at night. Matthew was not home from the skating rink yet and the city was a dangerous place, especially as of late. Francis had this nagging feeling that something was going to happen to Matthew, maybe not tonight, but soon and it was driving him insane with worry.

Matthew had hardly said an entire sentence to Francis in that entire month that he lived there.

Maybe it was just part of the healing process, he didn't know. But whatever it was, it was no excuse for him to be home so late and worry Francis sick.

He took to pacing, gazing at his watch and the chandelier and anything but the front door. He didn't know what would come through it, whether it be a silent Matthew or a cop bringing horrible news…

Finally, at 9:05 on a Monday night, the door opened, letting both Matthew and Gilbert into the Bonnefoy residence.

Of course, Matthew was silent as usual, not trying to speak or explain why he was so late like he would have a month ago.

And then Gilbert opened his mouth, "So I think I'm totally in love with Distant Vision."

* * *

_I'm totally going all Batman in this bitch. Tell me how you like this chapter?_

_SHIPS: **Ger**_**_It_**_**a** and **AmeriPan** (BROTP)_

_Alfred F. Jones - America_

_Kiku Honda - Japan_

_Matthew Williams - Canada_

_Francis Bonnefoy - France_

_Feliciano Vargas - N. Italy_

_Romano Vargas - S. Italy_

_Distant Vision - ?_


End file.
